


Blank Space

by mhunter10



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Gen, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-08
Updated: 2016-11-08
Packaged: 2018-08-29 20:50:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8504914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mhunter10/pseuds/mhunter10
Summary: His chest was a blank space.





	

Mickey was vaguely aware of the faces around him, but they didn’t matter.

Ian was in front of him, a cold look on his face.

Svet and Yev weren’t far behind, but they seemed blurry and made no sound despite their mouths moving.

There was an overwhelming feeling in his chest. It was desperate and broken and clinging by a thread. His heart hurt with how fast it was beating in the presence of the boy who had put everything in motion.

He could blame Mandy, wherever she was, for bringing this redheaded fallen angel into his life further than he’d wanted, but who was he kidding? He remembered little league. He remembered the feelings that only felt good alone in his room at night far away from his father’s terror.

He wore the same scarf as the day he left for the army.

His hair was a throwback to hot summer days and even steamier nights.

Mickey’s chest felt tight like it was on fire. It itched and burned like he might have actually gotten shot. It was a searing pain that felt too real to just be about his beautiful ex lover.

His hands reached for the collar of his bright orange jumper, his knuckles were white and as faded as his former self. The cotton was rough against his skin. He pulled carefully, curiosity making him look down at what could cause this sort of fiery ache.

Words blazed across his chest, but he couldn’t make out what it said. It seemed to be changing every time he blinked.

fucking idiot

faggot

Southside piece of shit

nothing

He looked up in surprise, seeking some explanation, some answer that would keep him from imploding.

Laughter rang in his ears, then he was looking into the face of his father.

Then the glass was a mirror, he was naked and alone.

The words carved into his chest were crystal clear.

He couldn’t breathe so he punched the face staring back at him but his fists wouldn’t work. Not this time.

Mickey sat bolt upright, patting and clutching at his clothed upper body. He was hyperventilating a mile a minute, audibly trying to suck in enough air to pull him away from completely passing out.

He wrenched his tank top over his head and was almost afraid to look. He lowered his head slowly. He needed confirmation. He needed relief.

His chest was a blank space.

No words.

No name.

Just smooth, bare skin and pale freckles.

He was okay.

He was alone, but okay.

He laid back down and closed his eyes, thinking of his family.


End file.
